There’s nothing quite like the nerves that slowly begin to grow in the days before a marathon. Race packs are collected at the first possible opportunity, kit bags are put together days beforehand and tried and tested running clothes are lovingly hung up, ready to step into in the early hours of marathon day. And so it was this year, as I prepared for my third marathon with an ever increasing feeling of excitement and tension that I could only hope would serve me well during the race.
It had been over a year since my last marathon back home in the United Kingdom, and three years since my first experience, in Dubai. A lot had changed since then. For a start, I’d begun training with a club, the Desert Road Runners, and had seen a vast improvement in my times over shorter distances thanks to the leadership and encouragement of Graham Rafferty and other club members. This time around, I was hoping to finally break the four-hour barrier, and although I was feeling relatively confident, I was also aware that you never really know how you’re going to perform in a marathon until the moment that you cross the finish line, some 42.195 kilometres later.
The Training
It’s often said that the real challenge of a marathon is in the training. Without a doubt, signing up for such an event requires commitment that transcends other plans, such as social occasions and weekend sleep-ins. Although we are blessed with perfect winter weather here in the UAE, early starts are essential as it is still too hot to endure long training runs after about 10:00 a.m. So since October, 5:00 a.m. Friday starts became a part of normal life. Of course, this meant that Thursday night socialising became almost obsolete, as did Friday nights, due to being so tired from waking up early that morning. Added to this were evening interval sessions twice a week, cross training and recovery runs. As the Dubai running season got underway, there were also several 5km, 10km and half marathon events to take part in, which served as a great way to measure progress.
Towards the end of December, training peaked, with long runs of up to three hours including some of this time at marathon pace. I had set myself an ambitious target, and was training with the 3:40 marathon group, which involved a marathon race pace of 5:13 minutes per kilometre. Realistically, I knew that the chances of me achieving a 3:40 marathon were slim, but I felt that this training would help to prepare me for a 3:45 or 3:50 finish.
Training generally went very well, and I learnt from previous experience about the importance of stretching, foam rolling and regular sports massages. Because of this, I was lucky enough to avoid any major injuries beyond the usual aches and pains that runners grow accustomed to. As with any race where you have a goal in mind, training brought with it incredible highs and soul destroying lows. Some days, marathon pace felt incredibly difficult, and I questioned how I could possibly run an entire race at such a speed, when even fifteen minutes felt like hard work. On the other hand, training with a group for the first time took the boredom out of long runs and helped to motivate us all. Everybody understood the ups and downs of running, and supported one another as we took it in turns to have bad days. At other races, we celebrated with each other as the results of such a varied training programme began to pay off.
The Big Day
With the alarm set for 3:30 a.m., I tried to get an early night, and actually managed to sleep quite well once I had dropped off. Upon waking, I quickly changed into my running gear and forced down my tried and tested pre-race meal; porridge and a banana with a cup of coffee. Taking a little coffee with me for the car journey to the start line, I left the house at around 4:45m a.m., knowing that I would rather get there in good time than leave late and begin to feel stressed.
Once parked, I made the first of many pre-race bathroom stops before checking my bag and meeting up with other members of my club. The weather was already humid, and there was the usual buzz of anticipation that there is before any event. Before too much longer, we were lining up at the start, ready to begin.
As the guns sounded and I crossed the start, I made a note to myself not to set off too fast; this is a rookie mistake and would only lead to disaster later on, I reminded myself. Running with my team mate Liz, we immediately turned left out of Umm Suqeim Road, heading towards the Marina. It was still dark and pretty foggy, and at this early stage of the race support was good, with people running close to each other, having not had enough time yet to gradually space out. Over the first three kilometres, we sped up from a pace of about 5:40 per kilometre, to our target pace of 5:13. It was very early days, but we were both feeling strong and were happy to be on pace. The 5km point saw the first water station, and I made sure I drank a small amount of water, not wanting to become dehydrated later on, when it would be too late to do anything about it. I also consumed my first GU gel as per my plan to take them every 10km from 5km onwards.
The U-turn outside the One and Only gave us the chance to see who was both ahead of us and behind us, and we eventually caught up with some of our fellow 3:40 group members who had started closer to the front. I was amazed to find myself comfortably chatting with them, although I knew that as the race went on the conversation would eventually diminish! Passing the end of Umm Suqeim Road again, about 12km into the run, I accidentally sped up for a while, with my pace quickening to under five minutes a kilometre. Thankfully, my group was able to rein me in, and I realised that I had allowed myself to become over excited by the cheering crowd. I slowed down again, and we began the long trek down Jumeirah Beach Road, towards the flag pole.
This part of the run passed by quickly, and we reached the halfway point in about one hour 52 minutes. I remember thinking to myself that a half marathon had never seemed so easy. We were still on pace when, shortly after half way, my right hip began to hurt. This concerned me a great deal, as I occasionally have problems with my hip. I decided not to mention anything to my team mates, and quietly took an Ibuprofen that I had in my pocket, just in case something like this happened. I told myself that at 28km I would take the other tablet I had, to prevent the pain from returning.
Before too much longer, hip pain temporarily masked, we passed by the Desert Road Runners support station. This was without a doubt one of my favourite moments of the race, as I had enough energy to clap and cheer in return as we sped by. Having such support gave us the motivation we needed to get to the turn around point at about 26km. Reaching this point was a boost psychologically, as it now meant that all we had to do was go back down Beach Road before finishing on Umm Suqeim. However, we were also well aware that this was the part of the race when things would start to hurt, and that it would take mental as well as physical endurance to finish in our desired time frame.
At 28km, I reached into my pocket to take my Ibuprofen as planned, only to discover that my body heat had caused it to disintegrate. Telling myself that it was ok, that my hip no longer hurt and that I didn’t actually need it, I focused on trying to maintain pace as the sun rose from behind the buildings and temperatures began to soar. Passing through the water station at 30km, I poured some of the water over my head in an attempt to keep cool. Our training group had got smaller, as two of the guys had sped up and gone on ahead. Meanwhile, Liz and I were beginning to struggle…
Around 32km, we passed the Desert Road Runners support station again. Craving something sweet, I gulped down some Coke, which was strange for me as I never usually drink it. A friend ran with us for a couple of hundred metres, encouraging us to keep going and telling us that we didn’t have far to go. Ordinarily, 10km would be a perfectly achievable distance, but now the pain was beginning to kick in, and the toughest part of the race began.
I tried to break down the remainder of the run into smaller segments, telling myself that once I got to 35km, it was just 5km to the next water station at 40km, and then I would be as good as finished. At this point, a 3:40 marathon was not achievable, but, if I kept my pace somewhere between 5:20 and 5:30 per kilometre, a 3:45 finish was still possible. For the next two kilometres, I averaged about 5:25 per kilometre, but my pace was slowing rapidly and I was taking longer walk breaks through the water stations. Liz was somewhere behind me, and I was now running alone. I was aware that my form had slipped entirely, and that I was not running economically. My quads in particular were on fire, and mentally I just wanted it all to be over, not caring what time I finished in, as long as I finished. I don’t know how, but somehow I reached the 40km mark and received a huge boost from the wife of one of our club’s faster runners. This somehow gave me the determination I needed for the final 2.195km, which I ran at a pace of 5:50 per kilometre. A 3:45 finish was now out of the question, but a sub 3:50 looked likely if I could just see it through…
Turning back on to Umm Suqeim Road, I saw the finish up ahead. More hobbling than running now, I gathered what was left of my mental strength, and told myself that it would all be over in a matter of minutes. The thought of being able to stop and hydrate was all I could think of as I passed a sign that told me I had only 400 metres to go. I checked my watch and tried desperately to increase my pace, not wanting to miss out on a sub 3:50 by such a small margin. 200 metres to go… this was nothing, I told myself. All I needed to do was put one foot in front of the other for another minute. 10km runners flooded the other side of the road, and I was grateful that they had been kept separate from the marathoners.
Approaching the finish, I somehow found the energy to hold my arms up in the air for the all important finishers photo, before crossing the timing mats and checking my watch. Marathon number three had been completed in 3 hours, 48 minutes and 35 seconds! I was overjoyed despite being exhausted. Not only had I finally achieved my sub four-hour goal, but I had taken 20 minutes off my personal best, and 25 minutes off my last marathon time. Suddenly, the pain and suffering was all worth it, the months of training had paid off, and I had a time that I felt was worthy of all my effort.
It’s often said that after a marathon, runners will claim that they are “…never doing one again”. For me, this was true for a couple of hours. A little while later however, once I’d had the time to reflect, I found myself considering “What if?” Whilst I was delighted with my time, I had also narrowly missed out on a Good for Age place at the London Marathon 2017. If I had run the earlier part of the race at a slower pace, 5:19 per kilometre, could I have managed to get the 3:45 I needed? I’ll never know the answer on this particular occasion, but I do feel that I gave my all, and most importantly, enjoyed myself during training sessions and for most of the marathon itself. In fact, I’m already considering my next marathon… Copenhagen 2016 anyone?
